


Soft Touch

by Tigerine (sealink)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Fluff, Implied RenKouAo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealink/pseuds/Tigerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren catches Koujaku off-guard with an unusual request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldcoin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldcoin/gifts).



> Written for caledscratch on tumblr as a way to thank them for their kouren art.

“Ren, that’s not… quite how it works,” Koujaku said, rubbing the back of his neck. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He was the one accustomed to saying things and watching others squirm. With his newfound perspective, he’d probably refrain from doing it quite so often; it made his stomach do somersaults.

“Isn’t it?”

 “No, I mean… “Koujaku’s cheeks felt hot—was he actually blushing? “I can’t just hold you like that anymore.”

“Why not?”

Koujaku sighed, finally lighting the cigarillo he’d come out here to smoke. “Because you’re not an Allmate.”

“I am still Ren, Koujaku.”

“Yes, but you’re not… “Koujaku gestured, curving his hands about the size of something small and fluffy.

“I may no longer have the body of a dog, but it is still me. I am still Ren,” Ren said, his golden eyes steady on Koujaku’s face as Koujaku sucked in a mouthful of smoke.

“Yeah,” Koujaku said. “But things are not… that simple, really…” He trailed off as Ren stepped closer, his arms still held out slightly away from his body.  His posture and carriage were still that of someone very unused to a human body. The unblinking stare didn’t make Koujaku comfortable either. There was still part of Ren that was a machine, still part of Ren that was an Allmate, even a dog.

Koujaku took another drag off the small cigar, pulling the smoke into his lungs and then exhaling. He still didn’t quite understand it—how could an Allmate become a person? But stranger things had happened in his life. His tattoos itched as if in response, and he pushed the thoughts of darker times away, back into the recesses of his mind, as he always did.

“Koujaku.”

“Hmm?” Ren’s voice brought him back to earth.

“Are you sure you will not consider it?”

Koujaku gulped down his mouthful of smoke accidentally at Ren’s repeated request. “It… Does it have to be me?” He finally managed helplessly.

“You don’t want to,” Ren said, a statement rather than a question, and yet, his deep voice, usually so carefully modulated, sounded hurt.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that—“

“So you do want to,” Ren interrupted.

Koujaku blushed furiously as he realized what he’d let slip. “I just don’t want to get in the way,” he grumbled, stubbing out his cigar. “You’re still getting used to being… human.”

Ren stepped closer and reached for Koujaku’s sleeve, tugging on it gently. The feel of it brought back so many nights out on this veranda, so many times Ren’s small body had nestled in the crook of his arm with Beni nested in his fur. So many times Aoba had complained about how Ren smelled like smoke afterwards, but Ren told Aoba he didn’t mind and Aoba grudgingly accepted it.  

Was that how an Allmate showed affection to those besides their masters? Did they just accept the behaviors of those closest to their masters without making a comment on it, without making their own judgments?

Did Koujaku find his heart softening because the face Ren wore now looked so much like Aoba’s?

“Koujaku, it is not the same, but,” Ren said, his face twisting as he looked for words to describe how he felt. Doubtless the sensation of feeling anything outside of programmed loyalty to Aoba was something new for him.

Koujaku was almost scared to hear the rest of that thought. In the end, his curiosity won out. “But?”

“I have spent many years with Aoba, and many of those years with you.”  He paused, blinking as he thought. “It seems appropriate that we should continue to be together.”

“But Ren,” Koujaku said, “Being together doesn’t mean _being together_ , does it?”

Ren met his eyes directly, intently, and for the first time, Koujaku felt a flutter of something in his chest like fear and desire and excitement.

“I want to see if it does,” he rumbled.

Koujaku sighed. “When are you going to tell Aoba how you feel?”

“I already have. “

“What??” Koujaku’s step back knocked the ashtray off the railing; it landed with a loud clang on the concrete below. Koujaku looked down after it and cursed briefly before looking back to Ren. His face was completely serious.

Ren leaned forward and took Koujaku’s hand, his expression intense. “Aoba agreed with me.”

Koujaku’s heart stopped for a moment, and long-repressed desires burbled up in his mind, thoughts of Aoba’s hair spread out on a pillow, of soft sheets and softer laughter. “He… agreed with you?”

“Yes.” Ren’s mouth was drawn into a line of grim determination.

“I….” Koujaku was, for once in his life, speechless. He extracted his hand from Ren’s, dazed. Koujaku wandered back into Aoba’s room, closing the lid to his cigar box and setting it back on the table. He needed to leave, to get out of here and think for a while, consider what he was going to do before he made a mistake or did something rash—

“Koujaku, wait,” Ren said, walking after him. “Please.”

“I have to go get the ashtray,” Koujaku protested, but his reason sounded weak even to his own ears. It was an excuse, a cowardly attempt at escaping a proposition that was both embarrassing and intriguing.

Ren made the decision for him in the end, gathering up Koujaku into his arms and holding him tightly, a soft sigh breaking from his lips. “Koujaku,” he said softly, his hand reaching up and sliding off the hair tie that kept Koujaku’s mane from getting too unkempt. The pick he wore through his ponytail fell into Ren’s hand.

Koujaku found himself frozen in place, unable to move. He could neither embrace Ren nor pull away. Ren’s fingers threaded through his hair, pushing all but Koujaku’s forelock away from his face. His fingers drifted to the sides of Koujaku’s face, and when the kiss came, Koujaku’s eyes were already closed.

Ren was voracious; his tongue pushed its way into Koujaku’s mouth without regard for the initial whimper of surprise. Koujaku found himself melting against Ren, smoke and the scent of tatami in Aoba’s bedroom blending with the uniquely spicy smell of Ren’s hair and the taste of Ren’s mouth. It was an intoxicating mixture that swept Koujaku away. He wasn’t even aware of how he leaned back, how he pulled Ren with him onto the bed until he sank into the sheets.

They broke apart, panting for air, and Koujaku’s red eyes caught Ren’s flashing gold ones as Ren buried his face in Koujaku’s neck. “Oi…Ren! Ren…”

Ren grasped Koujaku’s hand firmly in his own. He kissed Koujaku again, slanting his mouth against the older man’s, pressing him into the bed. Koujaku’s free hand drifted to the back of Ren’s neck, his fingers tightening in Ren’s shirt collar and pulling him closer.

“Hey, I thought we could—“ Aoba’s voice broke their kiss as both Ren and Koujaku turned to face the now-open door.  Aoba’s mouth hung open, a high blush on his cheeks, his hand clutching his chest.

“Aoba,” Ren said in his usual manner. “Welcome home.”

Koujaku pushed himself up on his elbows, looking sheepishly at Aoba. “Aoba, Ren said—“

“He said he was going to ask you, not that you’d accepted!” Aoba blustered, his mouth still hanging open in a state of shock. “I didn’t think you’d actually---“ Aoba looked at Ren, incredulous. “What did you say to him, Ren?”

Ren eased back off of Koujaku, settling on his knees. “Only what I told you.” He looked at Koujaku with a small smile, his amber eyes warm. “That we have always been together.” He looked to Aoba. “That we should always be together.”

Aoba made a face, his lips pursed. “Ren, that’s…”

Koujaku’s laugh filled the silence.  “Ren, you’re too honest for Aoba,” he said as his laughter died away.

Ren fixed him with a slightly confused look. “Am I?”

Koujaku nodded, a grin spreading over his face. “You don’t have to hit him with the honest truth like that. He’s a soft touch.”

Aoba frowned at Koujaku. “You’re the soft touch, agreeing to something like this so easily!” He folded his arms over his chest, pouting.

“You’re pleased about it,” Ren stated plainly, his lips twitching.

“Hey, whether I am or not isn’t the concern here—“ Aoba said, pointing at his chest.

“You’re right, Aoba,” Ren said seriously.

“Eh?”

Koujaku looked at Ren as well. “What is, Ren?”

Ren looked down at Aoba’s bed critically. “We’re going to need a larger bed.”

“REN!”


End file.
